quote against him language with which I have reason to believe he was not _critically_ acquainted, I cannot help expressing an opinion that Horace must have had in his eye a ROMAN TITMOUSE, when he penned those bitter lines-- "Licèt superbus ambules pecuniâ FORTUNA NON MUTAT GENUS. --Videsne Sacram metiente te Viam Cum bis ter ulnaram togâ, Ut ora vertat huc et huc euntium, Liberrima indignatio? --'Sectus flagellis hic triumviralibus Præconis ad fastidium, Arat Falerni mille fundi jugera, Et Appiam mannis terit!'"[23] While Titmouse was making this splendid figure in the upper regions of society, and forming there every hour new and brilliant connections and associations--in a perfect whirl of pleasure from morning to night--he did not ungratefully manifest a total forgetfulness of the amiable persons with whom he had been so familiar, and from whom he had received so many good offices, in his earlier days and humbler circumstances. Had it not, however--to give the devil his due--been for Gammon, (who was ever beside him, like a mysterious pilot, secretly steering his little bark amid the strange, splendid, but dangerous seas which it had now to navigate,) I fear that, with Titmouse, it would have been--out of sight out of mind. But Gammon, ever watchful over the real interests of his charge, and also delighted, through the native goodness of his heart, to become the medium of conferring favors upon others, conveyed from time to time, to the interesting family of the Tag-rags, special marks of Mr. Titmouse's courtesy and gratitude. At one time, a haunch of _doe_ venison would find its way to Mr. Tag-rag, to whom Gammon justly considered that the distinction between buck and doe was unknown; at another, a fine work-box and a beautifully bound Bible found its way to good Mrs. Tag-rag; and lastly, a gay guitar to Miss Tag-rag, who forthwith began twang-twang, tang-a-tang-tanging it, from morning to night, thinking with ecstasy of its dear distinguished donor; who, together with Mr. Gammon, had, some time afterwards, the unspeakable gratification, on the occasion of their being invited to dine at Satin Lodge, of hearing her accompany herself with her beautiful instrument while singing the following exquisite composition, for both the words and air of which she had been indebted to her music-master, a youth with black mustaches, long dark hair parted on his head, shirt-collars à-la-Byron, and eyes full of inspiration! TO HIM I LOVE. 1. Ah me! I feel the smart _Affettuosamente._ Of Cupid's cruel dart Quivering in my heart, Heigho, ah! whew! 2.